


Solo, But Not Alone

by cosmosmariner



Series: Ficlet in a Coma [1]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, M/M, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-05
Updated: 2014-06-05
Packaged: 2018-02-03 11:12:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1742690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmosmariner/pseuds/cosmosmariner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Napoleon thinks about his partnership with Illya after something goes terribly wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Solo, But Not Alone

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published 11/7/10 at my writing journal.
> 
> Dedicated to Sparky, Charlie, and the ladies of the Canteen.

Hospital coffee has a flavor that I cannot describe, except it tastes how I feel. It’s harsh and bitter; it leaves an aftertaste that nothing can eliminate.

I was on my third cup of the night, sitting in the uncomfortable chair that I took from the waiting room and positioned in front of my partner’s room. The hallway was quiet, but I could hear the noises of doctors and nurses doing a yeoman’s work to Illya. They had shooed me out of the room two hours before, with one of them telling me to go home. I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t leave my partner behind.

We had ferreted out a THRUSH nest, near the United Nations campus at Hermann-Ehlers-Straße, in Bonn. An agent that Illya knew from Hamburg named Fröhlich was to be our guide. I had gone ahead of my partner, posing as an Italian businessman looking for contacts in Germany. Illya, meanwhile, would masquerade as a Russian diplomat and would be able to infiltrate the UN campus with no problems.

The night before we were going to put our plan into motion, Fröhlich sold us out. THRUSH agents began a firefight in a park near the campus, and Illya was shot in the chest. He crumpled in front of me, all the while telling me that I had to take cover, that I had to disarm the men shooting at us. He was bleeding out before my eyes, and he was more worried about my safety than his own.

I knew my job, and powered by anger and adrenaline, I took two THRUSH alive, mortally wounding two others. Illya had already shot two agents on his own before taking the bullet in his chest. Once other UNCLE agents came to the plaza and took Fröhlich and his friends into custody, I ran to Illya’s side. By this time, he was being stabilized and loaded into an ambulance for transport to a hospital.

“Please,” I said, my cracked voice betraying my cool demeanor, “He’s my partner. I have to go with him.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” the medic said in broken English. “You must follow behind.”

Three hours in surgery to remove the bullet and stop the bleeding, and then a medically induced coma for a day. He suffered a mild setback, and was taken into surgery again last night. Again, they put my friend in a coma for his safety, and heavily restricted his visitors.

I didn’t care what the doctors said; nothing on earth was going to stop me from being at my partner’s side when he needed me, even if he didn’t know I was there. I knew I was there, and that made the difference. Illya needed me now, more than ever. Moreover, I needed Illya.

Normally, I resisted the thought of needing anyone. After all, I was Number One, Section Two. I was Solo. I didn’t need anyone. And I was a goddamned awful liar.

I needed Illya like I needed to take my next breath. He was my right arm, my best friend. Illya was the only person in the world who knew me inside and out, and never made me feel like less of a person because of it. I thought back to my days in Korea, when I fought with these men - boys, really - and I thought I knew them well. However, I’ve never known anyone like I know Illya. I would die for him a million times over, gladly; and from the looks of it, he was willing to do the same for me.

It’s funny, really; I didn’t want a new partner when Mr. Waverly put us together. And now, these many years later, I can’t imagine my life without him.

Watching his life force ebb onto the ground out there on the pavement was like watching it flow right out of my own heart. His pale face turning ashen and nearly translucent from weakness and a devastatingly low blood pressure. I thought I heard the nurses say they lost him at least a few times, but he came back.

I’m not a praying man, but I fell to my knees outside Illya’s room. _Please…please, if you are there, and you will listen to me, give Illya another chance._

I know my friend. He’s a fighter, he’s determined, and he’d never leave me in the lurch if he had a choice. He’ll make it. He’s got to.

So, I wait outside this room, in this hallway that smells of death and antiseptic, and I wonder when they’ll let me into his room again. My body, at least; for my heart is by his side.


End file.
